The humorous adventures of a 40+ year old woman

Menu

Month: January 2016

I am the queen of attracting toxicity. I’m the Adrienne Barbeau (Google It) of the dating, friend, relative Swamp Thing. I’m not sure why I attract people who don’t have my best interests at heart, because, quite frankly, I am a fucking asshole. Women get called bitches but I’m proud to call myself an asshole instead. I once had a guy tell me “You can’t be an asshole. Only guys are assholes.” Au contraire, mon frere. Let me show you my wily ways.

One of the most toxic people in my life is someone I’m related to. The relationship has always been rocky but I realized just recently that it’s not me, it’s her. I’ve tried my entire life to be good enough, do enough, meet all of the expectations and I can’t, not because of me, but because those expectations are unrealistic moving targets set by someone who is intent on me not ever meeting them. I don’t know that this is done maliciously but I know that it’s toxic and I seperate myself from that.

I think I’ve figured out why I keep people at arm’s length, especially men and why I’m involved in relationships that can never become anything. It’s because I’m protecting myself from the pain of not being good enough, when I know in my heart I am more than enough. I want my own space and I’ve allowed relationships that never should’ve happened to take place. That stops now.

Toxic friends have been cut off over the past couple of years. One of the things I can’t stand are people that won’t help themselves by changing behaviors that don’t work. I had one very close friend who gets herself into the most ridiculous predicaments ever, blaming all of her problems on the loss of her significant other many years ago. What I had to realize when I ended that relationship was that she was this way BEFORE the tragedy. She took no responsibility for her continued behaviors that kept her feeding at the bottom, broke, going to jail, evicted and exhausted. Once I separated myself from trying to constantly help her and her kids it was a huge relief. I’m kind by nature but like the saying says, never mistake my kindness for weakness.

I’ve kept a relationship alive that shouldn’t be. It should’ve been ended long ago considering the circumstances. We are transitioning to friendship again which is a line we never should’ve crossed. Sometimes a drunken night turns into something that it shouldn’t have and you realize you are better than that. That, my friend, is a toxic relationship when you constantly feel like you are second fiddle and can never be chosen first. End it. It’s only going to continue to chip away at your sanity and self esteem.

To all the Swamp Things in my life… I cast you out. It’s over. I hope you enjoyed your stay in my heart. Now get out.

When I fall silent it’s not a good sign. I’m great at expressing how I feel without any filter. If I’m happy, you’ll know it. If I’m mad, you’ll know without question, but when I am stressed to the brink and unable to cope I go silent. I’m a loud person. I’m boisterous and silly. My laugh is like no one else’s in the World. Silent but deadly (the pun isn’t lost on me) is what I am lately.

My dad had a heart attack before Christmas. Yesterday was the day we’d all anxiously been dreading for weeks; he became a member of the “zipper” club and had open heart surgery. I’ve been a nurse way too long not to have known what could’ve happened to my dad… Stroke, becoming a vegetable or death right on the operating table. On top of this, the job I loved was beating me to death. As of last Friday my job was gone, my dad was on his last leg and my life was crumbling around me, relentless in destroying me.

I’ve done more praying in the past six weeks then I’ve done in years. I’ve always been a believer but life gets so busy that you forget that God really is in control.

I went through the past week in a haze, accepting that I no longer had a job, I might lose my dad and figuring out how to hide this from my kids like everything was normal. Then I decided to turn it over to God and ask him to take the stress. He did. I was at peace. I knew I was coming here to be with my family and had the funds to be OK for awhile while I looked for something else.

Wednesday night I got a call at home, late, from my former boss, the Chief of Staff. I didn’t think anything of it, thinking she was likely calling to ask me where something was. She wasn’t. She was calling to offer me my job back. She’d done it for two days and needed me. I was astounded! I’d known I’d done a great job and I didn’t get fired, my contract had ended and I had no fight in me because of my worry for my dad.

I saw God working behind the scenes. I flew in to be with my dad and family and prayed for his surgery. I asked my friends (RL and online) to pray for him and to guide his surgeon. You know what? He came through a four hour surgery in a little over two hours without requiring a heart/lung machine.

To say this week has been one of miracles would be an understatement. I’ve never been a Bible beater, but I’ve always had faith. I’d just drifted far away from the shoreline when it came to truly praying about what I needed God’s help with.

I love Garth Brooks. I knew the Garth that was an original back then, me in my Rocky Mountain jeans and ropers (all colors..lace up). I saw him on his World Tour this year and was amazed! He’s still got it…

The song “Low Places” makes me think of my friends everywhere. I’ve been on social media for years.. Twitter. Instagram and of course, Facebook. What I’ve come to find out is that online friends can become real life friends, even if you never meet them in person.

My history with Twitter and Instagram is rich. I’ve interacted with thousands of people for years. They’ve become friends in my phone.

When it gets real is when they become glorious real life friends that you can touch and hug ❤️

In 2013 I got engaged to a man in Michigan. I lived in Texas when this happened. I was making the move to Michigan and would be working in downtown Detroit. I didn’t know anyone but said fiancée “T”and his family at the time.

Years before through Twitter I made friends with a guy named Pete. We had similar political interests. We followed each other over to Instagram and through Pete I met the most amazing woman, Danielle. She lived in Canada and she and I just clicked. We interacted every day. We became online friends. We shared phone numbers. I also had two IG friends, Jen and Jesse who lived in Michigan but I didn’t know it at the time. Around the time I was about to move to Michigan Danielle posted a picture of Detroit, saying “Good Morning!” I immediately commented and said what are you doing there?? I’m about to move to Michigan!

The rest is history. This woman I admired so much was less than an hour away from me. I moved and within days got to meet and hug her for the first time. I was ecstatic! I then met Jen and Jess and we all just clicked. About three months in to living with the fiancée I left him. Left the ring on the counter and left. I drove to Canada and spent that 4th of July weekend with Danielle and her family, in the pool, drinking and laughing and golfing. She healed me.

The four of us did everything together for 18 months before I packed up and moved home. We were sad but they knew I needed to be home with my kids and family. During that year and 1/2 there were incredible losses. One of my friends lost both of her parents. I was given the gift of Jen’s friendship and got to be there for her father, whom I loved, in his last moments. I spent time in her basement getting to know her family and friends. My other friend had a longtime relationship fail and we became roomies for a short while until I moved home. My sweet Danielle had challenges at home and she’s broken free from a rotten marriage. I’m so proud of her for that.

In short, I met the people in my phone. Not just “met” them, but made lifelong unbreakable bonds with three amazing women.

Don’t ever discount social media and the impact it can have on your life. I consider my friends in my phone to be real friends. I’m slowly meeting many of them in person and it’s fun to do.

I’ve got friends in virtual places.. Where the selfies abound and the comments chase my blues away. And I’ll be OK.

Tonight I was having dinner with one of my girlfriends and we had the unfortunate, yet hilarious experience of hearing and seeing an “Our Time” first date crashing down around us.

If you’re not familiar with “Our Time” it’s online dating for “older” folks. I’m not old enough to join the site, not that I would. I’m a cougar. That’s the honest truth. That’s also mostly why I’m single, because I scare the living shit out of younger guys.

First, I heard her voice. When you hear someone talk you automatically picture what they look like in your mind. I pictured 70, gray hair, carton a day smoker in a muumuu. My friend AC could see the woman and I could not stop laughing. I thought “Surely he called her first, right?” That would’ve been a deal breaker. Voices are deal breakers for me. If a guy looks like Brad Pitt but talks like Carson Kressley he’s out.

I listened to the man’s quiet voice and thought “He’s a patient man!” I pictured him in his late 50’s, handsome and uncomfortable.

As I sipped my beer I heard this woman break every cardinal first date sin:

She shared her financial crisis

She shared every medical condition she’s ever had

She told all about her daughter. In jail. And some domestic violence.

She got up to go smoke (apparently)

She revealed she was still married and her husband was in a nursing home

She never let the poor guy say a word

It should’ve been sad in every way but the more I listened the more I couldn’t stop laughing (I never claimed I wasn’t an asshole).

Their date was wrapping up and I heard her gravelly voice thank him for dinner and cringed. I’ve said those words myself so many times. I even posted on Facebook that I’d offer to meet the poor guy at Chili’s to give him some pointers.

We got up to leave, I turned around and looked and the scenario was switched. She wasn’t an unattractive woman, probably mid-50’s and he was old. I mean 70’s old.

I realized that her voice likely was from smoking, but possibly from a hard life.

I realized I shouldn’t be such a judgemental bitch sometimes.

I also realized that I WILL NOT be on an online dating site when I’m their age, either.

My favorite show on TV is New Girl (followed by About A Boy.. And The Foster’s…on and on) and I finally watched what I’m going to call the “Dice” episode tonight.

I can summarize it like this:

Naive girl wants to join hookup site

Guy friend advises not to join hookup site

Naive girl joins and ends up at creepy beardytail guy’s house

Guy friend trains her in the art of online dating

I can’t tell you how hard I laughed when these questions (paraphrased) came up from her guy friend:

What do you think when a guy says he wants to meet close to his house? *expects to have sex with you

When a guy says he rides public transportation? *no job

When a guy says he’s staying at a hotel nearby? *homeless and a perv

When a guy says his mother is the most amazing person? *lives in her basement, a virgin AND a perv

None of her innocent answers were right and all of his answers *(not quotes, but close) were spot on.

Sometimes I really do wonder what a nice girl like me was doing wasting my time on those sites (see Beautiful People post.. I’m apparently not ugly) and then I realize so many of us are experiencing the same nightmares.

I went to the gym this week. The gym is full of hot men who see me face to face and smile. I don’t have to ask for a picture of them smiling with teeth- I can see them.

I can find out his name to Google when he scans in (sneaky but I’m a cop’s ex wife, I can’t help it). I can also tell that they are really 6′ tall. In gym shoes.

I think I’ve found my nirvana. A dirty shoe smelling, body odor filled nirvana that I’ll take over sneaky Flame app any day of the week.

Friday is my all time favorite movie. I saw it in the movie theater in 1995 before any of these whippersnappers even knew who Felisha was. It is spelled FELISHA. Not Felicia. It’s a line from the movie, and little does anyone know that Felisha was actually one of the producers of the movie. An executive producer, Angela Means. The director, a little known director at the time, F. Gary Gray was the guy in the store (Stanley) who told Ezal (my neck, my back, my neck and my back) to get up off the floor.

He also directed the video “Today Was A Good Day” and a blockbuster called “Straight Outta Compton”. But I digress…

When I deleted the sneaky Flame App profile and the others this weekend all I could think was “Bye, Felisha!” Good riddance. All the banal “Hi” messages are gone. The attempts at small talk. The phone numbers the guys sent but I never responded to. All the pressure is off. I’m relieved and overjoyed, actually. It was a time sucker of epic proportion.

I also blocked every number from those sites of any guy I’d texted, gone out with or spoken to in my phone. NEVER delete them because you’ll get the booty call texts and calls and seriously not know which loser it is that’s contacting you. Trust me on this one. Just block them. It makes life so much easier.

I think I realize where all the men are at.

NOT on dating sites, that’s where. In the years I’ve been doing this on and off never once have I really met a man of substance. One that didn’t lie, or “ghost” me or have some sort of hidden agenda or baggage that he wasn’t forthcoming about.

I’ve realized now that the split second ego boost isn’t worth the headache of trying to get to know someone.

It’s not worth the constant disappointment and frustration.

What I do know in 2016 is this. I deserve better. I deserve substance. I deserve chemistry. I shouldn’t have to beat to match and paint to fit.

I better come up with some new resolutions because they’re all apparently at church or at the gym.

Last night I went and saw The Force Awakens and guess what? I CRIED. Not just a little, but a lot. I went with my daughter and old friends from high school (one of which sitting next to me would’ve laughed at me and told the whole theater I was being a pussy OUT LOUD had he known) Thank God for 3-D glasses and a dark theater.

I don’t cry very often. I’m THAT crazy girl.. Always having fun and laughing and playing around.

We got to the theater (6 of us) and the 3D was sold out! What do I do? AMC online of course. We got our tickets even though it was sold out! I’m creative and I was going to see that fucking movie if I had to sneak all of us in and teach two 11 and 12 year olds that it’s OK. I was desperate.

The movie started and I got chill bumps.

Every time I saw one of the original characters I cried (except for C3-PO because he’s not the same. He looks the same but doesn’t sound the same. I never liked that golden pretentious asshole anyway). Leia? I cried. Han. I cried. Chewy. I cried. R2D2. I cried. And Luke. I cried.

The movie took me back to 1977. I saw Star Wars in the theater with my Aunt and Uncle, brother, parents and grandparents.

I felt like I’d been transported back to my childhood. I cheered, I laughed, I cried, we Googled the date of the next one. I found out that James Bond is in it but you don’t know it. I found out that a main character is from Ned’s Declassified thanks to my daughter and couldn’t see him the same. These are not spoilers, just trivia BTW.

I told my daughter that I was 8 years old when I saw the first one in 1977. Her pre-teen response was “So?”. I was devastated because I wanted her to love it as much as I did. She didn’t. The only reason she sat through it was because her friends didn’t show at the mall.

My friend A (my spirit animal) proceeded to tell me that she wasn’t even conceived when I was watching the first one. I love her anyway. Smart ass.

I’m not sure why the movie evoked such an emotional response from me other than the fact that I had a charmed childhood. My parents worked hard to ensure my brother and I never wanted for anything. They struggled but they never let us know that.

If Siskel and Ebert were still around (RIP Ebert) I’d be sure they’d give it two thumbs up. I give it four thumbs up. Mine and forcefully raising my daughter’s thumbs against her will. That’s what parents of pre-teen daughters who hate everything just to spite you do.

Go see it. Enjoy it. Many of you won’t have had the memory of being a child mesmerized by the first one. I wish you could feel it like I did.

I’m the least “doom and gloom” person on the planet. I’ve been dealt blows that would bring a strong woman to her knees. I used to call myself the Ronda Rousey of handling stress but we all know how THAT turned out.

It’s January 1st. I know this because on this day every year I do two things:

1. Stress about remembering to write the new year on my checks

2. Realize I’m only 30 days from my next birthday (47) inching closer to 50

I’m proud of how I look, don’t get me wrong. I’m told I’m beautiful and funny and magnetic. On the inside I’m living in my twenties and on the outside I’m not too shabby, although I could stand to lose a few pounds. Turning 40 was no big deal but getting closer to 50? That’s going to be a day that I don’t leave the house and finish off every flavor of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting.

I’ve noticed that my mom, always so vibrant and busy, is slowing down. She’s almost 70 but I still see her as I saw her when I was a child. She can’t walk as quickly as she used to. She can’t remember things as well as she used to.

My dad is in his 60’s but is seriously ill with a heart surgery coming up this month. He’s my hero. The strong, practical daddy that I’ve always been able to turn to when I’m worried or scared. I’m terrified of this upcoming surgery and the thought of losing him has me understandably worried and stressed.

My son is 17. He’s signed a 6 year enlistment in the USAF. I’m incredibly proud of the man he’s becoming. In March he turns 18 and in August he heads to basic training, then to tech school and then, possibly, overseas.

My daughter is 12. She’s a joy and has an amazing social butterfly personality. She is almost a teenaged girl. I remember how I was as a teenaged girl and I don’t know how my sweet parents didn’t kill me.

You see, the older I get, the older THEY get. The closer we get to the people I love more than I love anyone or anything being gone. Its a battle that I’ve fought within myself over the past five years.

I’ve lost everything at some point since my divorce five years ago. My marriage, my children full time, my job, many friends (by choice), my health, my hope, my joy. 23 years ago I lost a child. But I can tell you this. I’ve fought to earn it all back and am standing here today fulfilled and dare I say HAPPY?

I am the best of friends with my ex husband and his family which I’m eternally grateful for (I’m not friends with his wife, we are neutral. She’s nice to my kids and that’s all that I care about). The first year 1/2 following our divorce we hated each other. Over the past 3 1/2 years, though, we’ve rekindled our friendship and he is an amazing dad. He’s been sensitive to my feelings when it comes to the sharing of our children. He doesn’t bring her with him when he drops off the kids. He knows it was so painful for me and does everything he can to ensure that I don’t have to interact much with his wife. Driving to the home that we built, choosing every tile and carpet swatch and cabinet color that is now inhabited by his wife and her children along with ours is still the most heartbreaking thing I still have to do. I don’t dislike his wife. I’ve never interfered or caused problems for her, nor has she ever caused problems for me, we just respectfully stay out of each other’s way because it’s uncomfortable for both of us. The friendship between my ex husband and me happened naturally. Let’s face it. You don’t spend 20 years of your life with someone and not realize there were good times and develop respect for each other.

It’s rare, apparently, to have a good relationship after divorce. To not fight, to put your kids first. To not argue over holidays and not follow the divorce decree. I can have my kids anytime I want and so can he. We don’t alternate holidays and weekends, we do that together. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are always spent with the kids. The same with birthdays and other holidays. We both have it good and we know it. The maturity it takes to do these things FOR OUR CHILDREN is important and has made this divorce an afterthought. I am grateful for the way we co-parent our children. It seems to be so uncommon these days and I’ve never been one to follow the crowd. I’m an expert at dancing to the beat of my own drum.

I have challenges coming up this year, but I’m ready for them. It won’t be easy but I’ve come to realize that I am a BADASS. I bounce back. I fight and persevere. I’m proud of myself and the things I’ve done.

I’m going to make 2016 my bitch. It won’t be easy but it’ll be worth it.

Happy first day of the new year. Here’s hoping it’ll be better than any of us could’ve imagined.

It starts in your thirties. You realize you can no longer drink like you used to and then, by the time you’re in your forties you’re lucky you can stay awake until 11:59pm to send the multitude of texts to your friends then go to sleep.

I can remember in my twenties partying until the wee hours on New Year’s Eve. We’d get dressed up, go to a swanky, expensive hotel for dancing and drinking and subpar hotel food. I’d never be hungover. My body would bounce right back the next day and we could start over again with mimosas in the morning.

Now my body says “Hold the fuck up, lady. Just who do you think you are?”.

A hangover is a three day ordeal that feels like the flu. I’m too practical to shove my feet into sky high stilettos to dance the night away only to deal with blisters the size of quarters the next day.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to dress up, but not for a night surrounded by drunken revelers, a road full of those same revelers driving, and the world’s worst cheap champagne overflowing at midnight.

Nope.

These are the things that happen when you reach your forties and become practical and pragmatic. I’m sure my parents never thought this day would come.

To all those still young enough to hang tonight, be safe. Close your 2015 out with a bang. In 2035 you’ll find yourself laying on a couch in yoga pants and a sweat shirt at 11:15 pm contemplating whether or not your friends will be mad if you just send that “Happy New Year” text when you wake up at 10am tomorrow.